Smoke Is the Rhythm of the Willow Bloom

Smoke is the rhythm of the willow bloom
A man inspired, a woman thus endowed
With pipe and hearth in woody sitting room
They, keeping silent, both create a cloud

And so I’m told
The author touches
Clean paper
And wonders

And breathing smoke like dragon’s breath,
He smiles
at naked power, naked thunder,
Grins,
suddenly
remembering the flower
Smoke is the rhythm
of the willow bloom